Trusting God Through Many Trials

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Month: August 2013

The further I travel on the road of widowhood, the clearer the picture becomes of my husband’s present state. With that realization the picture of his last days on earth becomes dimmer each day. Instead, I have a constant visualization of him being just behind the veil. The veil is what I like to call the separation between heaven and earth.

Two months into my third year of his passing on, I still miss him very much and think of him often throughout each day. But, now when I think of him it is not with sorrow, instead the thoughts come to me because he is still a part of me. After 42 years of marriage he is intertwined with my thoughts and decisions. I have learned that I have to control my thoughts. If I start to entertain thoughts of his last days, or other sorrowful thoughts of the…

The further I travel on the road of widowhood, the clearer the picture becomes of my husband’s present state. With that realization the picture of his last days on earth becomes dimmer each day. Instead, I have a constant visualization of him being just behind the veil. The veil is what I like to call the separation between heaven and earth.

Two months into my third year of his passing on, I still miss him very much and think of him often throughout each day. But, now when I think of him it is not with sorrow, instead the thoughts come to me because he is still a part of me. After 42 years of marriage he is intertwined with my thoughts and decisions. I have learned that I have to control my thoughts. If I start to entertain thoughts of his last days, or other sorrowful thoughts of the years of his illness, I realize that I have to stop myself. I am past needing to go through those thoughts for healing and for learning to deal with those times. I now am to the point that the only purpose those thoughts fulfill is to pull me back into sorrow. I know that he has just left his earthly tabernacle and moved into his house “not made with hands.” II Corinthians 5:1 says, “For we know that if our earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we have a building of God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.” That is where I need to picture him. He is in Glory Land, where I will be someday also.

As I go through my day, my husband is right there in my mind’s eye. He is not really that far away from me at all. As Christian’s, our ultimate victory has been to one day stand before our Savior and Lord. God allowed Phil to see Jesus face to face much sooner than any of us expected. However, I know that one day I, too, will be in the same place as Phil is, standing before my Lord.

Will I still ever shed tears again now that my husband is gone over two years? Yes, I am sure I will. But I’ll shed them because I miss him, not because I grieve for him. One day, I will meet him again never to be separated throughout eternity’s endless time.

My backyard looks like a mini forest. It didn’t start out that way. In fact, it was a mess when we moved in over twenty-seven years ago. Thickets of stickers, weeds disguised as saplings, and poison ivy. It took weeks for us to cut, hack, and burn the land so grass would grow.

Then it grew. For years we had a soft stand of grass, a tree house for the boys, and a corner burial plot for two dogs and three guinea pigs. A lot happens over twenty-seven years. We outlive our pets, the tree house comes down, and the six trees our boys planted as children rise to over thirty feet. The grass that enjoyed the sun when the trees were small has since given way to moss and though the landscape has changed, I still find myself walking the parameter of our property in early morning…pondering.

I met a woman who wanted to take on our yard as a project. Over the summer I’ve watched her add a plant here, shape a spot there, remold the landscape a piece at a time. Thing is, she’s left my mini forest alone. She said when she’s done, you’ll be able to sit at one spot, follow the pathway up the hill and into the trees. “You can just think when you sit and gaze up the hill.”

I like that…I can just sit and think as I gaze into the trees. I “think” to God a lot. My thoughts to Him are deep, joyous, and sometimes pleading. But the best part of my mini forest is listening to God’s thoughts.

I seem to always hear His voice when I walk under the canopy of the Birch trees. The breeze that rustles through the highest branches, the birds who grumble as I disturb their morning search for worms. God talks to me in the solitude of the shade, in the movement of nature, and I love to listen.

The Psalms are beautiful. David “got” the presence of God. He grasped hold of the world around him and praised God for His omnipresent spirit. Regardless of where he walked, where he rested or traveled, David felt the thoughts of God – even before he was formed.

Sometimes it’s hard to understand God. My human eyes have difficulty seeing past my own spirit and into the eternal Spirit of Christ. When I’ve walked into my backyard, fallen to my knees and wailed my heart before God, He never fails to remind me He is in control. He knows my every need, hope…my every lament. He’s in my head.

Learning to hear the thoughts of God takes practice. It means developing that deep spiritual connection with Him…being quiet, open, and ready to hear. How precious it is to hear Him. How intimate.

Shhhhh. Listen. Be quiet and seek. And you’ll hear the thoughts of the Master too. Listen as He speaks.

As I hear the thumping of my grandchildren’s feet running down the hill and across my back yard or I hear the back yard gate slam shut, I am reminded of God’s love and protection for me.

Often circumstances that look bleak or unfortunate to us are really God working out His gracious plan for us. When circumstances forced my daughter, son-in-law, and children to move from Arizona to Pennsylvania, all we could see was the rough- knotted side of the tapestry. We had no idea that on the other side of the tapestry, the side that God sees, a beautiful pattern was being formed.

After we heard the words, “He will have months,” referring to my husband’s prognosis, it was comforting to hear the pounding of hammers and other construction noises coming from a new home being built in field behind our house. While God was transitioning my husband closer to heaven, he was also planting my daughter’s family right next door. Someone would always be close by to look out for me.

Many times I feel like God has put an umbrella of love and protection over me when I sit in my living room and know that in a matter of minutes family members someone would be at my door if I needed them. Friends often say, “Isn’t it amazing how we can look back and see how God had all of that planned?”

This blog is about my journey, as I venture into the new reality of widowhood with four young children, my struggle to raise them as sons and a daughter of Christ and about God’s unfailing Love. His Faithfulness, His Care, His Awesomeness and my struggle to accept it all.